When Toren enters the space for the rites, my back is to him. As brief as it is, I can't push away the unbidden excitement. The pendant around my neck at birth glows so brightly now that it nearly makes me squint. This is the day I face my forever.

"Hey, Zara!" Caspian calls out cheerfully, cracking the solemnity.

"Casper, quiet!" Toren hisses somewhere near him.

 Reality breaks in then, and it's nearly crushing, but I remain standing. He thinks this is all fake.

So, I say nothing at all.

Bash, as my second, remains at the foot of the bridge. When we came in, the room was so solemn you couldn't help but be hushed alongside. It's circular, with a pool in the center and the bridge I'm standing on rising over it. Along the walls are candles lit, quiet flames flickering. It reminds me of the lantern festival each year back home, and that's intentional. This is the place of the rite for River Bend.

Words are too heavy for my throat, but if I don't voice them, I'll suffocate-

"Hi." Toren's fingers brush mine.

My mate has arrived. I didn't even hear him come up beside me.

"I... I feel fine this time," He says. Finally, I meet his eyes.

 He wears the colors of Apparatus. He's been bathed and oiled like I was, though I'm willing to bet Casper had a good laugh at his expense. Bash was shooed out by the women who were to bathe me, and the memory nearly made me smile. He looks good like this. He looks right.

I hate it.

"You... um... showered too?" He asks. Casper is at the opposite foot of the bridge, and a soft hum alerts us to an electric force field going up. The force field bubble puts a wall between them and us.

"My body was readied for the Rites." They used hot wax and lotions to soften my skin and pinned my hair after it was oiled to soften my features. Bash was shown how to paint my eyes in our Clan colors, the blue, green, and silver flecks of fish darting through our waters. They showed him how to make swirls down my arms, starting below the cuff of my off-the-shoulder bodice. Curls for the river with cogs and gears as the rocks. My past, intertwining with my future.

Luckily, the preparations covered the tear tracks.

"You look... nice." He's hesitant on the word, as though he were thinking of something else, and that's what came out. Nice. I hadn't dared travel with my gown; we'd sent it ahead of Bash and me to Bond Clan for safekeeping.

 I look "nice" in a dress I've worked on for the past seven years.

It had taken that long for me to design and settle on the final look of my ball gown—seven years of choosing shades of blue and gold for my corseted, off-the-shoulder concoction. I'd learned about the dyeing process and found rich navy for the bodice, melding into midnight, slate, and frost for the ballgown's edge. Hand-sewed the golden leaf appliques from the sweetheart bust down into the folds of the skirt. Winter nights were spent fireside measuring, rainy days by the window sewing and dreaming.

All for today. All for this.

"It's my dress for our- for the Rites. The ceremony."

"I don't know what all this was for; I just did as told, but... um. I think I did it, right?" He tugs at his shirt's hem, ensuring it's tucked in neatly. Even though I haven't known him long, the gesture doesn't surprise me.

"You look nice too," I admit. Toren shrugs and looks at his shoes.

 This isn't how it's supposed to be. His nerves should be excited for our future; he’s supposed to want this.

He’s supposed to want me.

"So, do we just stand here or-" he trails off, gesturing around the forcefield.

"I don't know. I was told to wait for what the" I stumble forward as the ground beneath us shifts, trying not to flail when he manages to catch me. We descend several feet, the only light coming from above us as the ground closes again. We're briefly in the dark before the wall opens, and the light blinds us.

"Hello! Our newest visitors, welcome!" Waiting expectantly for us is a tall cocoa-skinned woman, hair a crown around her head and highlighted cheeks expertly done.

"You didn't fall on your face, less clean up that way, and I have to thank you for that because it's my day to clean up the blood, and I was NOT looking forward to having to scrub- don't just stand there. I don't bite- there we are, that's better now let me look at you!" The rapid-fire commentary assaults our ears, and the light is blinding. I hold my hand up at eye level. I know that voice.

"You must be excited," She continues. Her makeup is perfect, her pink lips shiny and plump as she continues to talk. Her classically cut sheath dress is wrinkle-free; everything about her looks polished and clean, from the pink pumps on her feet to the hot pink ruffled neckline that ties at her throat. 

“Not really,” Toren replies.

"Names, please?” She continued as though she hadn’t heard him. “I need them for my log. I'll have to ensure you're registered in our systems so your results are easily accessible. I'm Roma, by the way." Her words tumble out how her hairdo is not allowed to, so tightly back is it pinned.

"Zara Rueben?" I offer. I think that's my name. I'm unsure of anything at this point, and her fast speech is slightly unsettling. Is this really the same woman from The Introduction?

Even her fingers are lightening, tapping into the tablet balancing in the crook of her arm.

"Before I offer my name or any other personal information, aren't there security measures that need to be taken?" Toren asks. "I'll need you to sign a guarantee that results won't be publicized or used to taint my family's image-"

"Mr. Finch, you are exactly how I imagined you would be." She smiles, efficiently putting a stop to it. "Now, if you'll follow me-"

"Is... is this part of the Rites?" I ask. Everything looks so... Pristine. Behind large glass plates are couples laying out on tan examination tables side by side. While Roma's fellow scientists are attending to them, she smiles cheerily.

 "For them, it is. Your situation is a little different, and it's fascinating. Right this way.” Roma leads us down a corridor, the candles from above now giving way to soft fluorescent lights and gray walls with various portraits and paintings on the wall—a close-up of a set of test tubes. Children are playing—a mountaintop view of the Districts.

"Where are you taking us? Are there doctors? Is this a lab of some sort?" That's the most curious I've seen Toren since I met him.

"A lab, yes. And there are Doctors of Science here, though we do have some physicians on hand if you feel it's necessary. But that's not our main purpose." She pushes open glass doors, revealing chairs with monitors on either side and headsets resting on the head of the chair. Though they look like recliners, the tray of instruments beside each chair put my stomach in knots. The same water in the room above is a theme here, too, with a soft fountain trickling in the background to relax the test subjects and the lighting softening the harsh white and chrome of the area.

"It's been some time since we had someone from the Districts make their way to this location—least of all someone of your elevated status, Mr. Finch. But we're honored nonetheless. I imagine it's been quite an experience discovering your genetic pairing with someone from the Clans?" Instead of the confusion I can feel on my face, Toren sighs in open relief, his fists unclenching and his body no longer tense.

"You're checking us for genetic compatibility then. I knew this talk of Bond mates and Rites was nothing more than old wives' tales." His triumph irritates me. Roma catches my glare. Her lips twitch.

"Again, not exactly. Because you've chosen to come to this location, there will be Rites and the results upon confirming your compatibility."

"You mean if we're compatible. An improbable outcome," He reminds her, nodding smugly.

"Would it kill you to pretend you like me?" I hiss. My traitorous body leaves my cheeks hot in embarrassment, and I would love to rip my Rites dress off right about now.

Toren sighs patiently. Placatingly.

"Miss Ruben, I have no dislike for you. I'm merely stating a fact-"

"She knows we're different. You don't have to keep pointing it out!" I can feel my blood rising, growing hotter under the collar by the second. He frowns.

"You're exhibiting unnecessary emotional outbursts-" He shrugs.

"You're exhibiting idiotic and insulting outbursts!" This time, I do start pulling at my pendant, intent on throwing the stupid thing away for getting me into this mess. I put myself in a corset for this brat.

"Perhaps we should begin the testing.” Roma intervenes. We both kept quiet this time, and she smiled.

"We'll draw the blood sample and put you on these examination tables here." She gestures to a pair of tables waiting for us as she brings us into one of the glass rooms. "Then you'll be put under a light where we'll scan you and your Gin Dori. After this, you'll go under an anesthetic, and we'll do a scan of your thought waves under stimulation. Combined elements will show us if you're one another's Bond mates." I can't find my voice again, so I nod. Toren has lost some of his smugness and shifts.

"I... I don't do well with scanning and such. If we could-"

"It's perfectly harmless but necessary, Mr. Finch. I'm sorry." She leads us towards the tables, smiling blankly when we hesitate. Even Toren seems off balance.

"I don't- um... And this is all part of the Rites? To find out?" Tula and Papa never mentioned anything like this.

"Yes. More scientifically involved than you were expecting, I know. Still, you can do other parts of the rite like the first meal and the joining ceremonies afterward," She encourages, nudging me towards the table.

Shame is the bile rising in my throat; it pushes my head down into my chest and wraps my arms around my middle. My earlier behavior leaves me embarrassed, and my concerns now appear childish.

"Miss Zara?" Roma's eyes go between Toren and me, and she waits a long moment before stepping forward and wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"This is a lovely dress. Did you make it yourself?" Her warmth is a comfort, her arm around me motherly.

"Yes, I- it's the custom. All of it is supposed to be the customs-" I am horrified to find my voice breaking. Roma gives me a gentle squeeze.

"This must be a difficult day for you. Both of you." She looked up at Toren and tucked one of the curls framing my face behind Mama's ear cuff. The bird is always watching over me. "Why don't I give you a few minutes to adjust and collect yourselves? Then we can continue, hmm?"

"I find this acceptable." Toren agrees.

"I'll return shortly." She snaps her fingers and gestures at the nearby technicians who follow her exit.

When the room is quiet, I sink to the floor. I'm so sick of the shame I feel. I miss home. Even the feel of my Rites dress is too much. I put my head on my knees, trying not to be sick, trying to wrap up all my pieces and keep them contained. Toren sits beside me.

"Miss Rueben, are you crying?" His leg touches mine. I can't answer him because I might start.

"We don't have to do this. I could call my father. He could make them stop." He tells me. I can't answer. Of course, his father can step in, and Finch would think of that.

“Seriously?” I glare through teary eyes. "I mean, do you get what's happening here?! I'm going to go home to my family and tell them it was all fake?"

"Miss Rueben, I-" He trails off.

I want to rip off my dress and run all the way home to where it's safe and the world doesn't hurt like this. "I don't have a Bond-Mate! I'm a freak not made for anybody. Just give me a second to wrap my head around that, and then you can go back and play Science Prince of the Districts, okay?" The lump in my throat could choke a horse. I sniff and start to rise.

"Science isn't fake," He yells out. That gives me pause. I don't have the energy to get into it again.

"You- look, I'm not going to listen to"

"Soulmates, Bond mates, or whatever they are. The testing they're doing here, I recognize a lot of the machines. In Apparatus, we do the same. We call it genetic compatibility testing." He continues. "The science behind it is based in fact and experimentation, on scientific theory."

I don't leave, not yet. This is beginning to sound like another of Toren's almost apologies.

"What's your point, District Boy?"

"I'm saying- that is." He clears his throat. "I- I was misinformed. I reacted without first thinking of how my actions would affect another. Your Rites may include more ceremony and emotional weight, but if this is how the solution is found, they are as valid as mine. More, even. You'll be able to have a love match, which I believe your people find beneficial…"

"English. Don't give me your psychobabble and precise terms. Just say what you're going to say!"

"I was wrong. I'm sorry I made you cry, and I was wrong." He pulls his silk handkerchief out of his breast pocket and offers it to me. "I'm sorry, Zara." He looks as miserable as I feel. I sit back down and take the peace offering.

Our fingers touch this time. "What's a- don't laugh," I warn. "But what's a love match?" He sighs wearily.

"In a love match, the two people have a say. They aren't paired up solely by compatibility testing, and they can search for things they find attractive in a potential mate." He looks down at our hands so near one another. "For all my family name gives me, those people have one luxury I can never afford. They can afford to fall in love."

"You- you don't get to pick your mate?" The idea that anyone would willingly go into a loveless joining…

He shrugs, resigned and unbothered. Maybe he's as used to the idea of no love in anything as I am to love being the basis for everything.

"I'm going to be betrothed to someone I don't know. She must be a figurehead, give me an heir, and smile for the cameras. She's not going to be a real person. She's going to be whatever my father thinks is best. Likely, I'll have little, if any, say in things." He smiles grimly. "And you've already seen I can be… unpleasant. Like just now. I wouldn't want to be stuck with me for life, and I don't want to put that on someone else."

His hand finds mine. It is hesitant and barely there, brushing his fingers over mine.

"There isn't- Zara, maybe I don't believe the same things you do. But I believe... I believe you deserve more than me. Trust me."

 I don't miss how certain he is that no one would want him. Yes, he's been a pain. But I can't forget his knee-jerk concern for his dog and his best friend. His sincere attempts at apologizing. The tingle I get when we touch. "My apologies. I don't mean to - I don't tell you this to create sympathy for myself." He mutters.

"You don't have to say sorry." I scoot a little closer." I appreciate you opening up. I haven't been the best travel buddy, either. Plus, I'm kind of small and squishy."  

He smiles, and rubs the back of his neck, cheeks pink. "I think you're- that is. Well..."